


Striptease

by occasional_boy_reporter



Series: Kinktober 2018 [19]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, M/M, Stripping, striptease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 09:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter





	Striptease

 

  “Alright, cheater,” Cayde tosses his cards carelessly across the deck and discard on the table between them, “take it off.”

  “Oh what the hell!” Andal holds tight to his own hand. “I'm not about to let you redraw because of this little stunt.”

  “What stunt?”

  “This stunt!” Andal gestures at Cayde's abandoned cards before gesturing to the Exo himself. “Half your cards landed face up! You think I don't see you had a crap hand. You're trying to make me let you redraw while you accuse me of cheating.”

  “Yeah?” Cayde lounges against the back of his chair, light bouncing off the metal of his exposed upper body and face set smugly. “You wanna swear on your Ghost you didn't stack the deck with that last riffle shuffle?”

  “¡Venga! For one of the oldest Exos I know, you're such a child.”

  “Aha! Now I know you cheated! Innocent Andal wouldn't be afraid to pull out his Ghost for a little mental corroboration. But your little lady's a bit too honest to be much help to you now, isn't she?”

  Andal frowns for a long minute before he finally lets his own cards fall from his hand and mutters petulantly, “My Ghost could lie for me.”

  “Not a chance,” Cayde snickers and makes himself extra comfortable. “You know the rules of strip poker: cheaters lose everything.”

  Andal can't help that his sour expression at being caught morphs into a wry smile. He eyes Cayde's lower half. Toes are bare of shoes and socks and only a single pair of horrifically aged pants remind Andal of how close he was to victory.

  “¡Joder! Next time,” the man promise as he kicks back from the table and yanks off his socks, “you won't catch me.”

  “The only way that will happen, is if you manage to catch me first.” Cayde's throat glows orange with humor.

  Andal tosses his floppy sweatshirt, as old and worn as the matching pair of sweats on Cayde's legs, at the Exo's head.

  “Hey, hey!” Cayde protests as he eases the article off his horn and tosses it blindly over his shoulder. “What are you trynna pull? You know I like to savor my victories.”

  Andal huffs and brushes loose hairs back toward his ponytail. “Ok. You wanna show, vaquero?”

  Before Cayde can figure out how to get the 'yes, please’ out of his mouth, Andal drags Cayde's chair away from the small kitchen table by a leg. Cayde sways to a halt as the squawk of furniture dies down and he blinks.

  “Whoa. Really?”

  “Shhh,” Andal warns as he grabs the bottom of his shirt, “don't change my mind.”

  Cayde pantomimes zipping his lips and tossing the key through his hollow cheek. Andal tries not to grin and is helped by the hungry focus of the Exo's face as Andal flashes the first bit of skin. It's only a slice of hip, just an inch or two of tan flesh as Andal toys with a hem. Cayde goes still, quietly waiting when the shirt settles back into place. It only takes a moment of baited inactivity before Cayde's gaze flicks to Andal's face as if to ask what the hold up is. This time, the human does smile. He chuckles too.

  “The things I do for you.” Andal smirks but then blows a rough sigh like all the wind's been knocked out of him when he notices the tent pitching between the Exo's legs. “And the things you do to me.”

  Cayde rests a hand on the inside of each thigh, dangerously close to that rising line beneath worn pants, and the human swallows. Andal steps forward, spreads Cayde's left knee just a little wider with a knock from his own, grips the back of the Exo's chair with one hand, and looms over his partner. Cayde meets Andal's eyes for as long as he can, enough mischievous glitter passing between them that Cayde is not surprised when a knee creeps onto the seat of his chair and brushes its way up his thigh to bump a metal hand teasingly into his growing erection. Cayde's fingers twitch but he resists the urge to touch himself or Andal because that's the surest way to blaze straight past the show and into a hot tangle on the kitchen floor.

   _‘Once a cheater, always a cheater,’_ Cayde signs cheekily against his own chest in Hunter shorthand.

   Andal snickers in amusement even though his ploy failed. When slim hand starts to move again, Cayde's gaze drops in record time.

  The stretched out tee creeps up slowly as Andal runs his thumb back and forth beneath the hem, hiking it up with each pass.

  There's a glimpse of a darker band barely peeking above Andal's garishly bright sleep pants (a gift from Cayde many Dawnings ago). There's a little scar, glossy and pale, cutting across a hip but too small to bother wiping away with Ghost intervention. There's a whisper of dark hair from Andal's belly button that disappears down behind layers of clothing and makes Cayde want to scratch his fingers through it.

  The snail's pace is intentional, Andal's last attempt at being contrary while still yielding to defeat. Cayde doesn't much mind the overcompensation. There's just more time for his dick to twitch between each new reveal.

  Slow and steady, Andal works his shirt up over the soft dips of abs, the barely there ribs, over pecs made up of all the same lean muscle. In the short moment Andal's face is obscured by cloth, Cayde covertly squeezes his own dick.

  “I felt that,” Andal points out with a smirk as the shirt finally falls somewhere behind him, dark skin dancing across his completely bared torso and hair drifting in his face.

   _‘Felt what?’_ Cayde signs.

  Andal narrows his eyes in playful suspicion before raking his hair tie from it's desperately clinging grip and flicking it onto the table. Cayde does some quick work shutting down or shunting aside a few subroutines but with Andal half naked and hair down looking like they've already fucked, Cayde's dangerously close to blowing some literal steam.

  “You doing ok there, viejo?”

  Cayde lightly readjusts on his chair when Andal stands and hooks both thumbs under the waistband of those awful gag pants.

  “Both at once.”

  Andal pauses and Cayde covers his face when he realizes he said it out loud. But once the joking silence is broken, Cayde can't be bothered to care.

  “Geez! The pants and the boxers. At the same time. Please. I've been horny since the first hand and I'm gonna need a fucking rez if you make me wait any longer.”

  Dark chocolate hair swings when Andal tosses back his head and laughs. Even the bob of the man's Adam's apple has Cayde squirming. Andal absolutely notices and even he changes, pupils dilating, as he hooks his thumbs beneath both layers obligingly and flips elastic down just low enough to show off the swell off his shaft, the head still trapped below. Cayde curls like he's been punched in the stomach and the first waft of real steam snakes out of his cheek as he fists his own cock through his sweats.

  “You know,” Andal begins breathlessly as he rocks fabric carefully lower and lower against his bent cock, “I let you get away with it.”

  “Get...away with what?” Cayde strains against the need to fuck into his hand.

  Andal leans forward carefully, one hand keeping the tension on his pants while the other sneaks under Cayde's right thigh and emerges with a playing card. The man flashes the King in Cayde's face.

  “Huh,” Cayde rumbles, too far gone to act properly surprised “wonder how that got there?”

  “You know the rules of strip poker, Cayde." Andal finally shimmies his pants low enough for his uncut cock to bounce free, Cayde's card still locked between Andal's fingers. "Cheaters lose it all. So take off your pants.”

 


End file.
